I took my wife to lunch in my hometown today. We passed a cleaning business that was Prime Time Video once. There at eighteen I worked for $5.15 an hour and free rentals, and one night…

She entered as I held the keys to lock up for close, and we held one another. She was confused and scared, she said, and she still loved me, but she needed time. I loved her, too, and in those fifteen minutes her body felt the same in my arms as it had six months before. She left. I released my yearning soul in an e-mail before I slept, saying all I regretted and loved and wished.

But that wasn’t the time she had asked for. I broke it, that thing of fervent prayers that had been within reach for a night. I would have followed her; I knew what she was worth. I cried.

It’s funny now, especially the math. That night was 18 years, a marriage, two children, a career, and three home video formats ago. I will go to bed now. I met my wife, my love, in a college film class, and she is quietly breathing there by my pillow.

Every new beginning cruises through the yielding dreams of yesterday in search of

the high tide

Should any of the old feelings show up tomorrow, we will sail in the second wind

Should we ever become captains of a tapestry of love, weaving time within reach

of believing

We will intermingle with the rays, meeting each other for a trip around the sun

If our hopes should ever rotate with a rainbow of colors we turn into songs

We will sing together, flying music into the horizons with our poetic wings.

I run and run, my eyes set on it. The blue butterfly. I hop on stones, trying not to slip into the river. I feel eyes falling on to me, but I ignore them. The sun begins to set, hues of orange, pink, and blue mixing together. Running out of time. I run to the ocean, hearing the crickety cracks of the wood of the docks. Almost there. I place my finger out. The butterfly lands on it. Freedom. Finally in my reach. I turn around, ready to run out of the country, to finally be free, when a hand clasps around my wrist. I slowly raise my eyes and gasp. My father. I cry as he sinks his fingernails into my wrist and takes me away. Captivity. It will always be in my reach.

you’re gone

but i

couldn’t

care less.

you sank

down

into the

murky waters

muddying

the silt

that lies

at the

bottom,

remnants

of all

who dared

to swim

but failed,

like you.

i know

you hide

beneath

the waves,

waiting for

redemption,

hoping that

someone

will come

and save you.

but you’ve made

too many

mistakes

and hurt

too many

people

and broken

too many

hearts,

including mine.

so when

i hear

your cries

for help,

while i know

you are

within my reach,

out of

pure spite,

i think i’ll

let you

drown.

My arm stretches up into the empty air but my fingertips just can’t reach the pink bubbly bloom. Instead, another hand reaches for it and takes it before I can.

“You wanted this,” he says slowly while handing me the flower. I stare up at him with suspicious eyes. I’ve never trusted this boy. He’s your classic class clown and he always has some weird grin on his face, but this is the first time I’ve seen him without that goofy grin. I quickly grab the bloom and say, “I could’ve gotten that on my own.”

“I was just trying to help. Don’t get all defensive,” he says slumping his shoulders and taking two steps back. When my suspicions face doesn’t leave he puts his hands up suddenly.

“I’m not gonna do anything! I swear.” He takes two more steps back.

“I’ll just go,” he says turning away and heading towards the entrance gate.

The next morning I gather up my courage to thank him in front of all his friends. They wonder why I’d need to thank him, but he never gives them the answer. Everyone at school wonders why I call him Blossom Boy, too. People are nosy.

Could you wait?

You're moving so fast.

I have a lousy gait,

While yours is steadfast.

I hate to have asked,

Because I want you to go -

But not so far past

That I can't see you anymore.

I don't want to look at the shore,

Or sandy tracks in the beach.

It is only you I care for,

Even if you aren't within reach.

You're right there.

Right there. Our knees are basically touching.

I could tell you. We're both here, so close, yet here I am sitting here Like a coward. I could easily just say it.

"Hey."

"I think I'm in love with you."

But I dont say it.

I just look at you every now then.

We make eye contact.

This is it.

It's now or never I tell myself.

The contact breaks.

You're there within my reach yet so far away at the same time.

I keep hoping you'll reach out to me but I'm losing hope.

I think it's best if I give this up.

Because no matter how close you are to me, I cant seem to grasp the words that are right within my reach.

I am constantly within reach of monsters who will drain me for all the worth I have. No matter where in the great black expanse I could hide, astronomers would find me eventually. I could hide far away in the Andromeda Galaxy and they would have me caught in a matter of hours. I could build a nice home on an extra solar planet in a solar system with two suns and they would wake me in the night telling me they had found me. I could consult the asteroids and comets and ask them to usher me away someplace out of reach and somewhere far away a person behind a telescope would watch the whole journey. I will never shake this Earth. She is beautiful but the people she holds are not. They terrify me in ways zero gravity and black holes could not. A black hole would not think first before crushing me, but a person would look me in the eyes and tell me they loved me first. I do not feel safe from their grasping hands even light years away. I would sooner shake the hand of the sun than shake the hand of a man.

Buckled under the sheer stockings of my knees rested the wooden bar of a trapeze. Lazily, I swung upside-down from left to right. Day in, day out, I swing back and forth, forth and back, smiling my empty smile. My ponytail flailed above and below me. I’d split out my legs. I’d curl around the wood. I’d flex in every which way, shaping my body into whatever so pleased the crowd.

One-handed, one-legged, blindfolded; I’d swing. Then at the end, I’d let go. There was no net. Because there was no need. The ground stretched far below, but I would not reach it. After my final flip, arms would stream in from above and I’d grab hold. We’d wave our goodbyes, him and I. Then bow to the crowd.

Let go, grab on, let go- but I swung too low.

In a dead moment, his fingertips kissed mine. Then I plummeted. The crowd shrieked for me as he abandoned his beam, dove down, and cradled me and curled the ground away from me.

He was always within reach... but I’d never noticed, until the sirens wailed, the ambulance strung him in, and he gripped, ever so slightly, onto my hand.